


Always Hope

by Bethann



Series: Legendary Friendship [31]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 13:29:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11464569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann
Summary: Greirr suffers relationship woes, that are not helped by Gimli's insistence that he join him in Edoras, nor by Legolas unexpectedly arriving in Aglarond injured and in a foul mood.  Legolas has difficulties of his own when one thing after another goes wrong and when he finally arrives in Aglarond hoping for comfort  from  Gimli, he only finds a grouchy, lovesick Greirr at home.





	1. Greirr's POV

**Author's Note:**

> This story chronologically fits somewhere between "Skin Deep" and "Keeping His Oath" Most of this series is written by Minniemoggie and me, but in this case I wrote it on my own. It is also told in third person rather than the first person we normally write in. 
> 
> To understand this story, you will have to accept the A/U idea that elves reach their majority at one thousand years, making Legolas (who is approximately 850 in this story) still a minor. Gimli has been assigned as his guardian when he is away from home. It will help if you read the notes to this story, and at least the opening story, "Legendary Friendship"
> 
> Greirr is Gimli's nephew, who Legolas first meets in the story "A Step Too Far" when Greirr is a little child. In this story, Greirr has grown up and surpassed Legolas in relative age and is now the second in command in the Glittering Caves. This was written as a request from Karen. I'm glad she enjoyed the tale!

“Legolas, for Aulë’s sake sit still and let Mistress Lilja get on with it. I am sure she has others who need her attention.”

“I am sure she does,” the annoyed elfling agreed, “which is why I asked you not to call her. There is not the least need for all the fuss for it is only a twisted knee. Please, Mistress Lilja, return to your other patients. I will be perfectly fine by morning.”

Mistress Lilja only smiled ingratiatingly at her reluctant patient and went on with her examination, for she had dealt with this particular elf on more than one occasion and knew he tended to downplay pain and the seriousness of illness or injury, a common failing young males. She was used to it. Besides that, she answered to the acting Lord of Aglarond and he was the one who had called her. 

“Actually, Lord Legolas, I think you may be optimistic in your view,” she patiently explained, “for even with your superior elven healing it will take a few days for ye to recover completely. At least one of the ligaments supporting the knee is torn. You will need to rest it and keep your weight off it for a day or two if it is to heal correctly.”

“And that is why you need to stay here,” the dwarf lord explained for what seemed like the twentieth time in the couple of hours since the elf had arrived unexpectedly at the gates of Aglarond. “I have need to travel to Edoras, and I can hardly carry you so far.”

“The horse will carry me!” Legolas spat indignantly.

“But he will not be able to carry you the whole time. There will certainly be some walking on the journey and plenty of it once I arrive. It is out of the question, elfling. You must stay here.

Legolas bristled at the use of the word ‘elfling’ but before he could complain, the healer was speaking again. Talking about him as if he weren’t even present was Legolas’ irritated thought. 

“Shall I send a nurse to stay with him then? For your friend must not be left alone, My Lord. He will need help if he is to rest his knee and I know most of your family are not in residence.”

“Yes,” the dwarf said at the same time Legolas said, “Absolutely not!”

“I came here for a reason, and I will not sit here twiddling my thumbs while some nurse watches every breath I take. I am coming with you!”

Legolas began to rise, even while Mistress Lilja exhorted him to stay put.

“You will cause further damage…” she began, but it was the dwarf lord that convinced him to sit back down. Or perhaps forced was a better word. He put a great large hand on the elf’s shoulder and pushed him firmly back into the chair.

“Legolas if you do not stay put, I swear you will regret it.”

Truly angry now, Legolas struggled in earnest, only to stop short when he looked at the dwarf’s expression. In his frustration, Greirr looked far too much like Gimli for comfort. It was uncanny really. Still Greirr needn’t think he could order him about just because Gimli was momentarily away from Aglarond!

But evidently Greirr did think it for he continued, “And you will stay here and do as you are bid by your healer until Uncle and I return. Is that plain?”

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor when one was suffering from a twisted knee, Legolas gave up in his struggle to rise. He did continue to glower at his so called friend though and he couldn’t help grumbling under his breath, “Who are you to tell me what to do?” 

“When my uncle is away, I am Lord of this demesne, for your information, and when you crossed through those gates uninvited you placed yourself in my care. As Lord here, I command you to remain here until Lord Gimli returns and gives you permission to leave.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Greirr wished he could take them back for he recognized the shock and hurt in his friend’s eyes, and he might have apologized immediately if he hadn’t thought that doing so would encourage Legolas to continue the debate they had been having since his arrival. As it was, he said nothing at all other than to reiterate his seriousness in the matter. Greirr knew he would not endear himself to his uncle if he allowed Legolas to risk damaging himself further by accompanying him to meet Gimli in Edoras, and he felt he was on thin ice with the first Lord of the Glittering caves already. 

Greirr had not been on the best of terms with his uncle when Gimli had departed several days ago, for Greirr did not see why he was needed in Edoras when there was so much to do at home. Admittedly what he had wanted to do had a lot to do with a certain young dwarrowdam named Dravalia, the beautiful daughter of the lore master Gror. Greirr had struck up a friendship with Dravalia some time ago, which he hoped would lead to more eventually. Dravalia at first had seemed interested in nothing else. The sapphire-eyed maiden was happy as her father’s apprentice, and had no desire to be consort to the future Lord of the Glittering Caves, something that made her stand out as different from many of the other young females who had taken a sudden interest in Greirr from the moment he was sworn in as Lord Gimli’s heir. Her disinterest had only made Greirr desire her more, and the young dwarf, being both handsome and charming, had eventually chipped away at her indifference until she had finally agreed that he could talk to her father about courting her.

Greirr had barely had time to drink to his triumph when his overbearing uncle had needed to see him and insisted he must meet him in Edoras in three days time. If he intended to take over as Lord one day he would need to know how to handle trade agreements, Gimli had told him and there was no time like the present to learn. Greirr’s arguments that he was needed at home fell on deaf ears and when he finally broke down and admitted the real reason he had wanted to stay, Gimli had been unsympathetic saying if Dravalia cared about him then her feelings would not change in the next ten days or so. 

Grierr realized now that his reaction had been less than dignified at the time, but he had been furious at having his plans changed without his consent, as if his own desires meant nothing at all. And in his rage he had acted poorly, very poorly he now admitted. He had accused his uncle of being cold and cruel, of being too old and crotchety to recall what it was like to be young and in love…of being a hypocrite. Hadn’t Gimli himself been the one to drill into his head the importance of producing an heir? And now that he had found someone who just might be willing to provide the third Lord of Aglarond, he wasn’t being allowed to pursue it. Gimli’s calm refusal to budge in the face of his passionate plea had only infuriated him more. Even now he felt he had had real reason to be angry, and yet he cringed when he recalled his insolent and shocking accusation. 

“Or perhaps you do not understand because you have decided to forego a wife yourself. Have your years as a warrior meant you have spent so much time taking comfort from shield brothers and human tramps that you have forgotten that real ladies need to be pursued rather than just invited?”

Greirr did not know who was more stunned at this outburst, him or his uncle, and he knew immediately that the statement was an unfair one. First of all, if his uncle had preferred the company of males, it would have been overlooked, if not officially accepted. Such a thing was hardly unheard of among Durin’s folk, even among those with status. The insult lay more in the suggestion that Gimli might have had so many casual lovers in his time that he had forgotten the moral standards of his own people. Greirr had known even as he said it that it was a terrible slur against his own Lord and dear uncle, and furthermore he knew it wasn’t true. He had just lashed out in his anger to hurt. He knew his uncle’s reasons for choosing not to marry were honorable and selfless.

According to his mother, Gimli had had a sweetheart or two in his youth, but had chosen not to marry because of his choice of career as a warrior. He would not marry just to create a widow and orphans if he were to die in battle. Later he had taken vows of Aeva Kostr to let the folks of Aglarond know he would not marry and would soon name an heir rather than sire one. Greirr knew very well that his choice to do so had to do with his promise to care for his elven charge, who over the years had began to succumb more and more to the sea longing, a strange elven affliction from which there was no cure in Middle Earth. Legolas would eventually require more care, to the point where Gimli might wish to move to Ithilien, and even over the sea if he were still alive when Legolas could no longer endure. He could not ask a wife to follow him on such a journey. Lord Gimli had told only two people of his plans; Lady Vonild and Greirr himself. Not even Legolas knew this yet, and now Greirr had thrown this shared confidence in his uncle’s face, and had made his beautiful sacrifice into something shallow and vulgar. He was thoroughly ashamed of himself.

He immediately apologized, but would not have been surprised to have been slapped for his impudence. He knew he was deserving of it. But to his surprise, Gimli did not even scold over the incident, but merely rolled his eyes and sighed as if Greirr were nothing but an overly dramatic adolescent. 

“Ye will survive for a day or two longer without your new ‘friend’, nephew, and last I looked I was still Lord here, so pull yourself together, and meet me in three days time. I will not hear another word about it.”

And that quickly Greirr’s concerns were dismissed as if they were nothing, and just as quickly his anger was ignited again, though he was wise enough this time not to push his luck. He only nodded curtly, agreeing to meet his uncle in Edoras in three days. Not that he’d had another choice!

This meant that he had a day to pack and prepare to leave, and a day and a half to travel, leaving only a few hours to spare-hours he’d very much hoped to spend with Dravalia. And with any luck at all, he thought he might be able to convince her to walk to the gates with him to see him off, and perhaps…just perhaps… to kiss him goodbye. 

The whole time he was preparing for his journey he was also planning how he would arrange things to make his plan come to pass. He had taken the time to procure gifts: the finest ale brewed in Aglarond and some of Lady Vonild’s pipe weed from Erebor for Dravalia’s father, Master Gror and for Dravalia herself silk ribbons for her hair and a beautiful leather bound book that was gilded in gold leaf and that had been gifted to him on a visit to Imladris with his uncle. It was a gift he hoped would make her eyes shine with delight as they did when she was poring over some ancient volume in the enormous library she loved so much. 

For good measure Greirr had also taken great pains over dressing, even going so far as to braid mithril beads and gemstones in his long,dark hair and a few in his beard. It was not long enough for too many for he wore it neatly trimmed in the more modern style, though Gimli continued to warn him that if he intended to take over as lord one day he would need to quit trimming it and begin wearing it ‘as it should be’, else no one would trust him and he’d be spitting on the graves of his ancestor’s besides. For all his talk of accepting other races and his so called modern ideas, Gimli could be shockingly old fashioned on some issues. Still the important thing was that Dravalia seemed to like Greirr’s beard, so he had every intention of keeping it as it was!

Grierr had just taken one final look in the mirror to make certain he looked good enough for his lovely lady and then picked up the gifts meant to render him irresistible to her, when their was an urgent knock on the door of his quarters. A messenger had been sent by Guard Captain Vestri, saying that an unexpected, but well known, guest had arrived wanting to see Lord Gimli. Normally Greirr would have been pleased to see his elven friend, invited or not, but in this case his timing had been dreadful. Still Greirr thought maybe he could just explain things quickly and excuse himself, for surely Legolas would understand.

What he hadn’t counted on was the elf’s complete lack of appreciation for all things romantic in nature and his jaundiced view of lovemaking and the fairer sex in general. In spite of being admired and pursued by females of all kinds, the adolescent elf did not yet reciprocate such feelings and did not really see why Greirr felt differently. Besides that Legolas had arrived injured and in a foul mood, which only darkened further when he learned that not only was Gimli not in residence, but that the rest of the family had gone to spend the summer in Erebor and Greirr himself was leaving within a few hours. 

The upshot of that was that instead of spending his last few hours at home wooing Dravalia, Greirr spent them arguing with Legolas, who had tried to insist on traveling with Greirr back to Edoras to meet with Gimli. And now he had managed to offend his dear friend by pointing out the difference in their respective ages, implying that he was not welcome and pulling rank on him as lord of the land, all things that he knew Legolas was sensitive about. It was the second time in a few days he had managed to insult someone he cared for deeply, yet he could not bring himself to apologize or soften his stance. Things would only get worse if he brought Legolas to Gimli damaged from Greirr’s own neglect. 

“Remain here, Legolas,” Greir repeated. “With good fortune we shall be back inside a week and you are not to leave until we return.”

With those words the heir of Aglarond turned on his heel and headed back to his own chambers to fetch his packs, thinking bitterly that if he were fortunate he might be able to wave to Dravalia as he passed the library on his way out.


	2. Legolas' pov

Legolas watched the retreating broad back of his friend, closed his eyes and slumped back into the cushions of Mam’s chair. Grierr’s words had been both insulting and hurtful, but that was merely indicative of how his life seemed to be lately. Not one single solitary thing had gone right, in the last couple of weeks and evidently changing venue had done nothing to stop the downward spiral of his fortune as he had hoped. If he thought it would help he would weep, but he could not even indulge in that with Mistress Lilja still present. Could anything else go wrong? There had to be a limit to the trouble he could unwittingly get into? Just at the moment, the young elf was very much afraid of that answer. 

Watching Aglarond’s chief healer going merrily about the business of wrapping his knee seemed the final straw, for there was no one he’d rather avoid than any healer, and Mistress Lilja was the worst of all. He’d rather endure the healers at home who tended to sigh and shake their heads at his foolishness or even Lord Elrond or Aragorn who were wont to scold and lecture all the while they were treating you. As annoying as that all was, it was better than Mistress Lilja who cheerfully got on with her work in spite of his protests, and whose curiosity about his physiology and anatomy could be quite…aggressive at times. It was so upsetting to him that he wouldn’t call on Mistress Lilja on his own accord even if he were skewered on an orc sword. Anytime he had seen her it had been at Gimli’s insistence, and even then his guardian had had to swear to remain with him to quell her overly thorough examinations if he wished to gain Legolas’ cooperation. 

And yet now he could only close his eyes and pretend this final indignity wasn’t happening to him. He would have tried to protest further, but Mistress Lilja was very determined and the way things had been going lately, Legolas feared she might best him and frankly he couldn’t risk the humiliation of being defeated by an elderly female dwarf. The only thing to do was wait until she was finished with him, and hope she kept her hands near his knee. As she worked, he let his mind ponder back over the last couple of weeks, trying again to piece together exactly how so many things had gone, if not exactly wrong then…catawampus. Certainly not right anyway. It had been a very disagreeable time indeed…

It had begun with a disagreement with his guard captain Galathil. Legolas had begun a new project that he was greatly interested in and one that he felt would bring his personal gardens, that were already becoming quite famous, to new heights. Most of his life he had dedicated to the art of war, but in the last decades he had truly applied himself to beautifying the lands of Ithilien and restoring them to their former glory, so he had taught himself a great deal about horticulture; both the science and art of cultivating plants. Over the past winter he had pored over manuals describing the art of grafting things and was anxious to try it in the rose gardens. He had organized a team to help with the work and had just collected tools to begin when the winds shifted. 

The last decades had brought other changes in Legolas besides the increase in his knowledge of plant lore. He also found himself more and more often succumbing to the effects of the sea, and when the breeze was just right the scent of the ocean wafted into Ithilien from the Bay of Belfalas so that there were certain times that the call was more of a threat to him. When the winds had changed, Captain Galathil had noticed immediately and had insisted that Legolas shut himself into the stone shelter and closed the windows and doors until the winds shifted again. As Lord of his own demesne, Legolas had attempted to refuse, but all Galathil had to do was threaten to write a letter to Gimli or even to his King father. That was all it took, for Legolas knew very well Gimli’s view of him risking his health in any way, and his father could always recall him to Eryn Lasgalen, and just might do it if he felt his son was making poor choices for himself. Gimli would be no help in that case either and would probably have helped pack him off if he thought it was for the best. So the only thing to do was to retreat.

The winds hadn’t changed for what turned out to be an excruciating ten day. Ten lonely days too, for everyone else had to get on with their duties. Not only that but the grafting had had to be put off for another season, for roses were finicky and the window for such work was very small. 

Also he had missed the first warm days of spring, which were always the bests of the year and by the time he had been cautiously set free the frost had returned and killed all the canes that had been mismanaged because he hadn’t been there to direct the work himself and someone had forgotten to cover them. He had felt bereft looking at the blackened rose garden and to top it off all his precautions hadn’t been enough. Somehow or other a couple of gulls had found their way inland and triggered an episode with the sea longing anyway. It had turned out to be a mild episode, not enough for him to need to retreat to Aglarond to recover, not when it was planting season, but it was enough to leave him exhausted, miserable and unable to sleep well or concentrate on anything. 

He was just beginning to feel a bit better when he received a letter from Gondor’s king saying he was needed in Minas Tirith to attend a diplomatic function, for a delegation from Far Harad was due to arrive in a few days. Never one to enjoy such things, Legolas usually just gritted his teeth and soldiered through them. He knew they were a necessary evil and to try to beg off would not go over well at all, so he came when summoned, determined to do his best.

Unfortunately he had managed to blunder the thing in spite of his very best intentions. He had spent so much time learning the ways of men since his move to Ithilien, that it hadn’t even occurred to him that things might be different this time. How was he to know that the handclasping that the humans of Gondor did to greet one another or seal an agreement would mean something entirely different-and evidently highly offensive-to the Haradrim? He had received more than one shocked glance before Aragorn had realized what he was doing and set him straight on exactly what he had been offering to those humans. It had been terribly humiliating and even now he blushed to think about it.

And worst of all Aragorn had been livid with him. According to the king, he would not have made such a grave error if he had read through the volumes on the customs of Harad that the king had had sent to him. The pointed lecture on responsible behavior and proper preparation had set the elf’s teeth on edge, especially when he had been disbelieved when he explained that he had never received those volumes. Even Arwen hadn’t believed him! 

The unfairness of the whole thing had caused him to behave in a way that sadly probably only reinforced Aragorn’s thought that he was a thoughtless adolescent, for he had used phrases and appellations that should never pass the lips of any well brought up young prince, let alone be uttered in front of a lady. The whole sad episode had ended with Aragorn hauling him off to his private office for a very one-sided discussion that left him very sore and sorry. At least he was sorry for his language in front of the queen, but other than that he was left feeling ill-used and still a little angry.

Mostly though he had just felt empty and dreary and longing for a sympathetic ear. He wished that Gimli had been in residence, for he wanted more than anything to fall into Gimli’s broad shoulder and indulge in a good cry while his dwarf stroked his hair and offered words of comfort. In fact if Gimli had been there, things would never have spiraled so out of control for his dwarf would have listened and believed him when he said he’d never received any briefing and he would have never allowed Aragorn to touch him! In fact the dwarf would have stepped between him and Aragorn before things had gone sour between them in the first place. Knowing Gimli he would have even thought further ahead and reminded his charge that he should do a little research on the customs of the Haradrim before meeting with them or maybe he even already knew about the meaning of the handclasping custom and would have warned him! He would not have been surprised if that were the case, for Gimli was such a steady person to have around and things generally went smoother whenever he had anything to do with them! 

Suddenly he had been so homesick for his dwarf and so needed to be fussed over and listened to that he couldn’t wait another moment. Leaving a quick note to his host and to his guard captain, he set out that very night for the Glittering Caves and his beloved guardian and his dwarven family. 

The journey had been fairly miserable since the rain seldom stopped and Legolas hadn’t really taken the time to pack properly for such weather. He very much wished he’d taken an oilskin with him. Still the thought of the coming comfort kept him going. 

He had just sighted the first hills of Helm’s Dike when he had dismounted from his horse, slipped on a wet rock and fallen a short way down a hill and painfully twisted his knee. His spirits had flagged then, for not only was it quite painful, but he knew he could expect to be at least scolded for having run off helter-skelter without plan or thought, and all alone in dismal weather besides. Gimli was a stickler for insisting that people should think before speaking or acting, and he would not be impressed with Legolas’ impulsive decision. But he would be happy to see him in spite of everything. The elfling was quite sure of that, and once he had braved the storm of Gimli’s disapproval, the dwarf would be free flowing with sympathy and comfort. That thought kept Legolas going that last leg of his journey.

To arrive where he wanted to be only to find that the one he wished to see was not even in residence was almost too much to bear! And Mam was gone, and even Dorbryn! And Greirr had somehow joined the ranks of mortals who felt they could nag and scold and order him about! He hadn’t expected Greirr to pull rank on him like that and then to threaten him! With what exactly he wasn’t sure, but he was sure he didn’t like it one bit! Why he had been the one to teach Greirr to play cat’s cradle as the dwarfling sat in his lap, hadn’t he? And now just because Greirr was ‘in love’ and annoyed with his uncle, he thought he could treat Legolas like some naughty elfling as if their early years together had meant nothing at all.

He knew very well that Greirr had outpaced him in relative terms and was well past his majority now, while the elf remained an adolescent. That was made obvious by Greirr’s very adult build while Legolas remained lanky even for an elf, by the fact that Greirr no longer tried to coerce the elf into joining him in mischief, by the fact that Greirr was thinking seriously about finding a wife, while Legolas still felt females were best to be avoided. But to point it out so baldly by calling him ‘elfling’ and ordering him to ‘obey his healer’…well it was just bad manners and completely uncalled for!

And then to call in Mistress Lilja when Greirr knew his feelings on that subject! That was the most unforgivable of all. 

Fortunately Mistress Lilja must have sensed his mood, for she only completed her task efficiently and promised to send someone to help him while he recovered and waited for Gimli’s return. By now every scrap of patience he had possessed had already been depleted. He had felt like collapsing in relief when the gates of Aglarond had come into sight, and now he might have to wait for a week to ten days or even more to see his beloved guardian! While his upset over this may have seemed overly dramatic to a more staid prosaic person, Legolas was still often prone to experiencing the overly sensitive emotions of youngsters, and those next ten days stretched out before him like a life sentence in a bottomless dungeon. So much for the myth that a hundred years seemed like the blink of an eye to an elf!

Besides that his sense of unfairness had been insulted again, for Greirr was getting to do exactly what Legolas wished to do and the ungrateful wretch didn’t even appreciate it! In fact Greirr had seemed to have been annoyed that his presence was required at Gimli’s side at all, when he should have been grateful to have the opportunity to be taught by the great dwarf lord, who was not only a war hero who had played an important role in saving Middle Earth, but had also rebuilt the great gates on Minas Tirith, and then single handedly settled and developed the thriving community of Aglarond. Greirr should feel honored to have been graced with such a privilege of living with Gimli and learning under his care! Conveniently Legolas may have forgotten that he himself had grumbled a time or two under similar ‘care’ himself, for just at that moment he could only think of how much he longed to be with his dwarf. 

He would never have admitted it, but the truth was that Legolas had begun to feel a little jealous of Greirr’s situation. Even though he was a full-fledged adult, Greirr still had the luxury of having both parents nearby to guide him and comfort him and to cheer him on in his daily accomplishments, and he had the added benefit of having a loving grandmother and uncle nearby as well. Legolas’ dwarven family was nothing if not supportive of one another, and while he knew they included him as one of their own he was not near enough to benefit from it as often as he might have liked. His own father he knew was proud of him as well, but Thranduil was many leagues away and not available for immediate consultation or consolation if he had need of it. Gimli of course, was like a second father and was considerably nearer and would drop anything if he felt he was needed by his charge, but the daily affection and reassurance that was available to Greirr was not available to Legolas, and Legolas knew that no matter how extended a visit turned out to be, at the end of it there would be another parting and he would be on his own again. 

Well not really on his own. Captain Galathil and Captain Saelind were always looking out for him, but they were in no position to fuss over him and encourage him like a parent might do, and even though it might have been childish, Legolas occasionally missed the warmth of the physical affection that was common between a parent and child. He realized too that at least with his dwarven family, that continued on even after the child had quite gown up! Legolas was certain he had never seen a day when Lady Vonild was with either Gimli or Drobryn when she hadn’t embraced them, kissed their cheek, patted their arm or stroked their hair. Greirr had no idea how fortunate he was to live with such a family!

And why was Greirr the one to be invited to join Gimli in Edoras anyway? Legolas would have loved to receive such an invitation if Gimli had extended it to him and Gimli was his guardian after all, not Greirr’s! Why hadn’t he been asked to help Gimli in Edoras? Greirr didn’t even want to go and didn’t deserve it and suddenly Legolas was annoyed with Gimli as well for being so callous and thoughtless as to forget him! 

Had he reflected just for a moment, he would have realized that Gimli’s aim was to teach Greirr how to run his future demesne so it would have made no sense for him to be invited in Greirr’s place, but Legolas in a strop was not always the most rational of beings. At that moment he only knew that Greirr was getting what he himself wanted while his own needs were being ignored, though he would never have called how he was reacting a ‘strop’ but more ‘justified righteous indignation’!

Whatever you called it, Legolas was hurt, annoyed and angry and he decided then that he certainly would not stay if he did not wish to. Greirr could not keep him from meeting Gimli in Edoras for he had as much right to travel there as anyone. The young dwarf may have been the acting Lord of the Glittering Caves when Gimli was away, but his authority did not extend to the authority that Gimli had over Legolas as a guardian! Greirr had no rights at all over such things. Legolas was no prisoner after all, and Greirr did not own the road to Edoras or the gates to the city did he? He could not prevent King Elfwine from welcoming him, he who had been a brother in arms with the King’s own father Éomer the Blessed of Rohan! 

Of course. Legolas decided, it might be prudent to wait a day to give Greirr a nice long head start on his journey. There was no need to test the seriousness of his resolve in the matter or find out if he could carry out whatever threat it was he had in mind when he had warned the elf to stay put. Not with the disadvantage of his twisted knee at least. It seemed that even Legolas could be pragmatic in his thinking when needs must. 

Aye he would leave in one day’s time or maybe half a day more. All he would need to do was slip the nurse that was going to be forced upon him. Fortunately that had turned out to be much easier than expected, for the nurse who had been assigned by Mistress Lilja was no more keen to be with Legolas than Legolas was to have him around. Evidently no matter Mistress Lilja or Lord Gimli’s strange obsessions with elven kind, babysitting an outworlder was not on the list of things he wished to do with his time. He had been more than happy to comply when Legolas had sent him away promising to cover for him with Mistress Lilja should she ask. 

So the first part had been easy. The next bit was more difficult, for the truth was that even after a day and a half of sort of resting it, his knee was still quite painful. It hadn’t been easy leaving Aglarond without anyone noticing his obvious limp. He managed it by leaving during the early evening when most of the residents were in the main dining halls or in private homes partaking of their evening meal. Even so Guard Captain Vestri had looked disapproving and had felt the need to point out that Lord Gimli would most likely object to his charge aggravating an injury in such a way. Still there was really nothing the good captain could do, so he had relented in the end saying only that it was on the elf’s own head should things not end well. 

It was an hour into his journey when the skies opened up again that Legolas remembered he still hadn’t thought to bring an oilskin to keep off the rain.


	3. Greirr's POV

In the meantime in Edoras, Greirr, who had grumbled so much about not wanting to travel to meet his uncle was now grumbling that Gimli had insisted on leaving so soon. He had only just arrived in time to bathe and change for the proposed trades meeting, which had been completely uneventful, when Gimli had decided they would leave that very afternoon rather than staying on for a few days as planned. Having finally made up his mind to it, Greirr had rather looked forward to his time in the city and would have liked to look around the shops for a trinket for Dravalia. At the very least he would have enjoyed taking at least one meal at King Elfwine’s table and spending a night in a dry bed before heading out in the cold dismal rainy spring weather to sleep on the wet ground again. 

It was his own fault of course. He should have thought to keep to himself, at least for a day or two, the fact that Legolas was awaiting Gimli in Aglarond. As it was, Gimli had been anxious to get home immediately and had also been less than pleased with his nephew. Not that that was anything new these days!

“Whatever possessed ye to leave him alone?” Gimli had growled.

“Why your own command, Uncle!” Greirr had protested, more than a little annoyed himself. “You were the one that insisted I had to come here!”

“But I didna’ know the circumstances Greirr! You could have sent word, I would have understood, or you could have hired a rig to bring him with ye. The worst thing ye could have done was to leave him alone, ye daft dwarrowling!”

“I did not leave him alone. I left him in the care of a healer and her assistant!”

And I am hardly a dwarrowling anymore, Greirr thought to himself, though he had the sense not to say it. 

“If ye believe leaving him in Mistress Lilja’s care will keep him in place, then ye’re a fool, nephew. More likely he’d escape at first chance. No there is no use arguing about it! We will go back tonight and make haste, and ye’d better pray to the Valar that the lad is still there when we get home!”

How that statement was fair Greirr did not know for it wasn’t as if Legolas was his responsibility and he had done what he could to keep the elf in pocket. But he knew better than to mention that when his uncle was in such a mood. Gimli was very protective of his elven heart son and no doubt it was concern that fueled his anger. Still it wouldn’t make for a very pleasant journey home and if he were honest he did feel a bit guilty. After all he hadn’t been as kind and welcoming as he might have been and he did care for his elven brother. He had mainly been aggravated with the circumstances, which hadn’t been Legolas’ fault; not really. 

Still his thoughts about Legolas were not very charitable when he was attempting to start a fire that evening, with wet wood on the wet ground with only a very small ledge for shelter. At least they weren’t getting soaked to the bone though, for Gimli was not the type to ever forget to bring an oilskin with him when traveling. 

In fact once Gimli had rigged a makeshift shelter out of a couple of oilskins, some stones and rope along with the natural overhang things began to look up considerably. His time spent as a warrior meant that he knew something about making do camping in all sorts of weather, and the thrown together tent was much cozier than Greirr would have expected once Gimli had shown him how to start a fire with some emergency dry kindling from his pack and a combing of his own hair. The fire built under the protective ledge just outside the tent opening warmed them while the oilskin held down by stones underneath them kept them from sleeping in mud. There were no ponies to worry over, for both had decided to travel by raft for the first part of the journey and then by foot after that because of part of the aqueduct that had been built between Hornburg and Edoras having been closed due to the torrential rains they had been enduring of late causing a rock slide that had blocked a section of the canal. 

Greirr appreciated the warmth and comfort so much that he almost began to feel more benevolent toward his uncle who had provided it for him, so much so that he offered to trek through the rain to the nearby Snowbourne to see if he could find a fish or two in the floodwaters where the banks had overflowed. 

“Aye, circumstances may have cheated us out of a feast at the King’s table tonight, but roast fish over an open flame is a tolerable replacement,” Gimli jovially agreed. “At least it beats a sharp stick in the eye! But be careful, my lad for the ground is slippery and the river quite treacherous. Mind that ye do not fall slip and fall in, youngling.”

Greirr was greatly heartened by this speech, for the use of the endearment ‘my lad’ and the fond warning to take care, meant that Gimli was not truly angry with him and that things would be right between them sooner than Greirr had hoped at first. For even though he still felt he had been unfairly treated, he never really liked being at odds with his uncle, or any of his family for that matter. 

He made it to the river easily enough and was able to procure four fat fish that were more or less trapped in puddles outside the river’s bank. Dispatching them quickly, he wrapped them in a bit of scrap cloth and tucked them inside his cloak. He was just heading back toward the small camp when he heard what sounded distinctly like a breath being expelled and when he looked up, he saw a pair of glittering eyes. Something was out there! His hand tightened around the axe at his belt…


	4. Chapter 4

Legolas also had decided to forego a horse, leaving his stabled in the Hornburg, for the heavy spring rains had left the roads slick and hazardous. Since he intended to return to Aglarond with Gimli after the visit to Edoras, he simply borrowed one of Aglarond’s rafts and made use of the aqueduct. He hadn’t known however about the rockfall, so was dismayed to find he’d have to walk a good portion of the journey. Normally he wouldn’t have minded much, but his knee was protesting more than he would have liked. Still he had traveled in much worse condition, and in worse weather as well, so he continued on determined to get to Edoras partly to reach his original goal of seeing Gimli, but now also partly to prove to Greirr that he could do whatever he wanted. 

When he came to where the rockfall meant he had to leave the canal, he tied his borrowed raft next to several others obviously left there by travelers in the same predicament. He had limped along for a few miles more when he decided it might be best to find some sort of shelter to wait out the night. He had easily spotted the overhang by the small fire next to it, and just for a moment he thought he might approach whoever was there and seek shelter, but even in the torrential downpour his elven hearing meant he soon could hear voices from inside the tent and could even make out part of what was being said. 

 

“…circumstances cheated us out of a feast tonight…” and “…careful my lad…”

Legolas recognized the bass tones immediately. It was a voice that he knew as well as his own. Gimli! But how?

Hadn’t Greirr said that they would remain in Edoras for several days before returning to Aglarond? He wondered if some sort of emergency had come up to send them back towards home so soon. For a moment he was rather worried, but then he thought again of Gimli’s words and rolled his eyes at his own lack of insight, for most probably he was the emergency that had sent them home; he was the circumstances that cheated them out of a feast with a King! Of course Greirr would have reported his arrival in Aglarond and also the condition he had been in, and just as certainly Gimli would have dropped everything to rush to his side. It was just like his dwarf to do so. He wondered why he hadn’t thought of it before, and taken the time to swear Greirr to secrecy. He had wanted to see Gimli, but he hadn’t meant to interrupt his trip. If Greirr had kept quiet, Gimli would still be in Edoras and Legolas would have had time to make himself more presentable before his guardian saw him and to come up with a plausible reason for having gone off against Greirr’s suggestion that he remain in Aglarond. Now he debated whether or not to show himself at all or just return to the caves, for he suddenly saw himself as Gimli was likely to see him. 

He was soaked to the skin and shivering besides walking around on an injured knee that had swollen to nearly double its normal size and that now throbbed mercilessly. It wouldn’t matter to Gimli that Legolas didn’t feel he had to listen to Greirr’s orders or that he didn’t particularly like Mistress Lilja’s ministrations or that he’d been too caught up in feeling that life was unfair to heed good advice to rest his knee or to remember to bring proper rain gear or at least a bag that would keep his spare clothes dry. All Gimli would see is that he had put himself at risk, for what to him would seem like no good reason. Very belatedly he recalled how his guardian felt about such things, and realized that if he were to reveal himself, he very well might end up in a great deal of trouble. 

The thought of being reprimanded in front of Greirr, gave him pause. He doubted Gimli would do much more than scold, at least until they returned home, but then he wasn’t sure he wanted to test that theory. And that shelter was very, very small. Too small for any sort of privacy…perhaps it would be better to turn back!

On the other hand, he was in a fair amount of pain by now. And it was cold and wet and he had nowhere to shelter nearby without risking being seen. He would have to backtrack several miles and then move quickly in the morning in order to make it back before the two dwarves arrived. In normal circumstances that wouldn’t have been a problem, for he could move much more swiftly than they could, but again that dratted damaged knee…it was quite a quandary.

Fortunately-or perhaps unfortunately depending on one’s point of view, Legolas never had to make the decision one way or another. He was so deep in thought and so concerned about his own situation, besides being distinctly uncomfortable, that his superior elven senses were not functioning at full capacity. He was still leaning against a tree next to the flooded riverbanks staring at the campfire of his dwarven kin, when he suddenly felt a blade at his throat. He was about to reach for his own knives, when a voice spoke, a voice he knew immediately.

“Who are you and what are you doing spying on unsuspecting travelers, mad man? Believe me when I tell you, you have chosen the wrong dwarves to attempt to rob!”

“Peace! Greirr, put your axe away. It is only me.”

“Legolas!” What are you doing here?” Greirr stared in disbelief at the drenched and shivering form before him. Being too stunned to know just what to say, he asked the first thing that came to mind, “Where is your horse?”

“The ground was so slippery I decided not to bring him. It wouldn’t have been safe to do so.”

Greirr was suddenly angry.

“But it was safe for you to walk this whole way with an injured knee? Did I not tell you to stay in Aglarond? We would have been home by tomorrow, daft elf! What in Mahal’s name were you thinking?”

“I didn’t know you were on your way home, and I was thinking I would meet Gimli in Edoras. Besides, I do not have to follow your orders. I come and go as I please!”

“I’ve already told you, when my uncle is away….”Greirr began and then changed his mind when the rain began to pelt them even harder. He grasped his friend’s upper arm and encouraged him forward with a firm yank. “Oh never mind! Save your explaining for Gimli.” 

“But…but I’ve decided to go back now rather than disturb the two of you,” Legolas claimed, attempting to plant his feet and pull free. “As you say, you will be home by tomorrow, and…”

“Legolas, just shut up, and move!”

Again he yanked at the arm, only for Legolas to yelp in pain when his weight was shifted to his bad knee. The pain however, was not enough to assuage his anger for he only replied quite haughtily, or at least as haughtily as possible for someone with wet hair plastered to his head and water streaming down his face. 

“Take your hands off me, dwarf. I have come this whole way without your help, and I can move just fine under my own steam. HEY!”

Rather than paying attention to this speech, Greirr simply growled and knocked the elf’s one good leg out from under him, and caught him under the arms, before hefting him into his own arms and sprinting toward the tent.

Bursting into the tent, he dumped the elfling unceremoniously on the ground, leaving the first Lord of the Glittering Caves uncharacteristically speechless! Before Gimli could gather his wits to ask a question, Greirr and Legolas continued their argument.

“Damn it Greirr, can you not just mind your own business for once in your life? I was doing fine on my own!”

“Mind my own business? You made this my business when you defied my orders and set out on this foolhardy mission to cripple yourself for life!”

“Your orders mean nothing to me, dwarf! There may be plenty of people who can command my obedience, but you are not one of them! Who are you to tell me what to do anyway?”

“I’ve answered that more than once already, elfling, and I wouldn’t have to give you orders if you had sense enough not to attempt to walk sixty miles on an injured knee in a bloody monsoon!” 

Legolas heard nothing past the word elfling and his face turned white with rage.

“Do. Not. Call me that!” He lunged toward Greirr, who just managed to sidestep the attack, and very childishly repeated the offending word. 

“Elfling!”

Finally the elder dwarf lord found his voice.

“Enough! Both of you!”

Both turned toward Gimli, who evidently had decided to take control of the situation, probably thinking to save their temporary shelter from being knocked over in the scuffle.

“ I canna even imagine what is going on here, and believe me when I say, ye will be explaining, but whatever it is can wait until ye are both in dry clothing! ” Gimli raised a hand to forestall any objections, “And I mean now!”

Greirr growled deep in his throat and forcefully hurled his cloak and the wrapped fish to the ground, but he was not so far gone as to outright refuse to do as ordered. Legolas only sat wide-eyed staring at his frowning guardian, torn between throwing himself into Gimli’s arms, or attempting to flee the premises, for while he was finally with the person he had longed to see, he knew he would have some difficulty explaining his situation. He couldn’t just follow Greirr’s lead and change clothes as Gimli had ordered either, for not a thing in the pack he carried with him was dry. He didn’t think Gimli would be very impressed with that fact, nor with just about any other detail that was probably going to be revealed about his ill-advised journey. 

Gimli gave him no opportunity to make a decision either way.

“Why are ye sitting there staring, boy? Ye are soaked through and have clearly been ill recently, no doubt from the sea longing, something I damn well should have been told about and don’t think I won’t be seeking the reason why I was not! Now heed me quickly and get changed, or I assure ye, ye will not like the outcome!”

Even after so many years together, Legolas was still amazed at how quickly Gimli could read any situation having to do with him. 

“H …how did you know?”

 

“Ye are rail thin and shivering like an aspen in a gale. It’s not that cold and I am not as blind as ye think! Now get on with it before ye catch your death.”

Evidently in order to speed the process, Gimli picked up Legolas’ hastily discarded pack and opened it himself, his expression becoming foreboding when he looked at the contents. With a great sigh, he turned the pack upside down so that a veritable stream of water poured out of it, followed by a sodden bundle of clothing. He turned a baleful eye on his charge, his eyebrow rising to dangerous heights.

“I…I was in a hurry,” Legolas tried to explain. “I forgot to waterproof the pack…or…well… anything else.”

“Easy to do,” Gimli replied caustically, “especially since it’s spring when it seldom rains and there hasn’t been a sign of a shower for weeks!”

Legolas knew when his dwarf became sarcastic that he should be cautious, so rather than attempt to answer, he only looked up through his eyelashes and tried to look suitably contrite and pitiful hoping to change some of Gimli’s ire to sympathy. The effect was helped by they unshed tears of frustration that had gathered in his eyes and the slight shivering that he couldn’t seem to stop. He let out a silent breath in relief when Gimli sighed heartily again and softened his tone.

“Come lamb, we’ll find something that will do for now. Greirr hang these wet things up near the fire to dry.”

The outcome of that suggestion was that Greirr rolled his eyes and grumbled under his breath, but reluctantly did what he was bid, while Gimli began to rifle through a trunk of his own, fishing out the only items that might be long enough to come close to covering his lanky friend. He came up with a calf length tunic and full-length burgundy velvet formal over robe trimmed with gold cord that he had brought for his audience with the King. Legolas would have to make do with that since the dwarf’s trousers would have never stayed up on the elf’s extra slim hips. On Legolas the tunic reached mid thigh and the formal robe just below his knees, and since they were both more than double his width, one shoulder kept slipping out of the tunic’s neck and the robe shoulders seams fell so far below his own shoulders that his hands were covered despite the too short sleeve length. But the robe was fur lined, so paired with way-too-large, but dry socks, he did feel much warmer and more comfortable in spite of how ridiculous he knew he must look. 

Though he would never admit it, he actually quite relished the dwarf’s fussing over him, or would have done, were he less concerned over his very near future when he would inevitably be asked to explain his sudden appearance. That he would most certainly rather avoid.

But whatever his opinion, Gimli was soon wrapping him in blankets, rewrapping his swollen knee and plying him with hot tea made by a glowering Greirr. He didn’t really even mind the fond scolding that went with these small services, for it was clearly motivated by honest concern over his health and well-being and was accompanied by gentle hands brushing out his damp hair and placing pillows under his knee to elevate it. This evidence of his guardian’s love and deep affection made his throat ache and his eyes sting with the need to release long held back tears, but with Greirr present and probably silently judging him, he only blinked and swallowed hard and controlled the urge to bury his face in Gimli’s broad chest. 

Instead he sipped quietly at the tea, staring resolutely away from Greirr and awaiting the storm to break over his head. He didn’t have long to wait.

“Now then, what in Mahal’s name were ye thinking, Laddie? What are ye doing here?”

So not much of a storm after all if he was to judge by Gimli’s voice. The dwarf sounded somewhat irritated, but not furious so Legolas risked a peak at his guardian’s face where he saw more concern than anything else. Emboldened by this the elfling opened his mouth to speak only to be rudely interrupted.

“I could answer that,” Greirr snarled, still feeling hard done by. “No doubt it was to prove to me that he doesn’t have to listen to my suggestions, even if he has to cause himself permanent damage to prove it!”

Legolas scowled at this, wanting to argue again that Greirr had no authority to order him to do anything, but before he could do so, Gimli raised a hand to silence him and Greirr both.

“I was not addressing you, if you’ll recall youngling, I was talking to Legolas. Besides that I’m guessing that you could have phrased your ‘suggestion’ a bit more diplomatically. You were already in a surly mood even before I left Aglarond. Ye took your ire at me out on an innocent party who happened to be in the way. Isn’t that so nephew?” and then to Legolas, who was attempting not to smirk at this dressing down, “ And dinna look too self-righteous elfling! Yoou know very well how I feel about ye going against sensible advice, especially coming from a family member who cares for you and a healer who despite your dislike for her knows what she is about. The mature thing to do is to heed good counsel even if you do not like how it is given! It seems to me that both of you might benefit from a proper spanking.”

This speech had both parties blushing, for the elder dwarf lord had managed once again to read the situation, if not perfectly, then far to close for comfort. The embarrassing and bluntly spoken warning, caused Greirr to squirm uncomfortably wondering what Dravalia might think should she somehow hear of his uncle threatening him with such a childish punishment. He was a decade past his majority by now and had not been reprimanded in such a way for many years. He did not believe his uncle was really in earnest, at least he hoped not, but neither was he willing to press the point just in case, especially since he realized deep down that he had been behaving like a lovesick adolescent rather than a proper deputy and heir of a great dwarven land. 

Legolas, on the other hand half expected to be hauled over his guardian’s lap then and there for he was finally well aware of how rash and foolish his actions would seem to Gimli. He had run off in a fit of pique toward Edoras, after having run off in a wave of despair to Aglarond. Neither time had he taken a moment to reflect on whether it was wise to do so, he’d barely left word as to where he was going and hadn’t even prepared properly for traveling. He didn’t even have a stitch of dry clothing, for Valar’s sake, or a flint for lighting a fire or a crumb of lembas or any sort of emergency supplies. His knee, which had ached when he had reached the Glittering Caves, now throbbed mercilessly from the abuse he had heaped on it. Almost he wished Gimli would carry out the threatened retribution just so he could experience the absolution and comfort that was sure to follow. But he was not quite prepared to suggest that, so like Greirr, he kept quiet. 

In the silence that followed Gimli continued, turning back to his original question.

“Anyway lad, I didn’t mean what brought ye here, here. I meant what brought you to Aglarond to begin with? I assume you had a good reason for coming suddenly and without notice did you not?” 

In the past Gimli might have exploded when Legolas still hesitated to speak, but many years of experience had taught him that gentle persuasion generally got truthful answers faster than bellowing demands. He also had discovered that Legolas’ motivation was never truly to drive his guardian mad, even if it seemed like it at times. He nearly always had a reason for his actions, even if they only made sense in his own head. With that in mind he continued to encourage.

“Come, Lamb, no one will interrupt while you have your say and you know ye can tell me anything. In fact in this case I insist on it!”

A large callused hand cupped Legolas’ chin forcing him to look up into dark eyes; eyes that were kind yet insistent at the same time, and it might have not been a coincidence that he placed himself strategically to block Legolas’ view of Greirr. Whatever the case, Legolas hesitantly at first, began telling his long painful tale beginning with the sea breezes in Ithilien and ending with his arrival in Aglarond with a twisted knee only to find Gimli missing. He did leave out a couple of details, such as the outcome of his argument with Aragorn and Greirr’s less than gracious words to him a couple of days ago. The first was too humiliating and the second too revealing. As annoyed as he was with Greirr, he was not the sort to tell tales to get someone else in trouble. He might as well have left nothing out, however, for Gimli had easily guessed Aragorn’s response and Greirr ‘tattled’ on himself. 

“Ah, no wonder ye were so distressed after such a troublesome few weeks,” Gimli patted his charge’s hand sympathetically, “And Aragorn needs to learn to control his temper, and so I will be telling him when I see him next!”

“And I did not help things either,” Greirr admitted, sounding truly contrite. He felt foolish for not having dug deeper into the reasons for his elven brother’s arrival in the first place. He should have been kinder and realized something was amiss, but when he was near Dravalia, he seemed to have trouble thinking clearly. “I am sorry I was such an overbearing prig, Legolas, and I did not mean to make you feel unwelcome. Of course ye are always welcome. It is just…”

“Never mind, Greirr,” Legolas replied, feeling quite generous now that he felt he had been heard and knew that someone sympathized with his situation. “I was not at my most reasonable either, and I realize now that I might have interrupted your…umm…your…

“Philandering?” Gimli supplied. “Wild oat sowing?”

“Uncle!” Greirr sputtered. “I’m not sowing wild oats. My intentions are perfectly honorable!”

“Ah. In that case, chasing after, drooling over, making eyes with?” Gimli waggled his eyebrows suggestively, “ LOVE making?” 

“Gimli!” Greirr was bright red now, which caused Gimli to guffaw heartily and Legolas to smile at his guardian’s antics before coming to Greirr’s rescue.

“I was going to say I interrupted your ‘gentlemanly interest’ in seeking a lady’s affection.”

“Thank you!” Greirr replied frowning severely at his uncle, and then added to defend himself when Gimli continued to chuckle at his expense. “She is very pretty.”

“That she is lad,” Gimli relented, smiling fondly at Greirr’s mortified expression, “that she is. Now, since it seems the two of ye have kissed and made up, how about we forego any more conversation tonight and focus our attention on cooking those fine fish ye found for us nephew? And I think we have some herbs to brew into a tea that will help that painful knee, lamb.”

Gimli squeezed Greirr’s arm, kissed the top of Legolas’ head and then got to his feet. Once his back was turned, the two friends exchanged relieved looks, and then slight smiles, then quickly touched knuckles before Gimli turned back around. It was a long held tradition from the past, a shared sign of congratulations for having managed to wriggle out of trouble. 

But then, “Ye needn’t look too smug, either of ye, for I said we’d talk no more tonight. I make no promises beyond that, nay, I think there will be plenty more to say once we get home. Tomorrow is another story altogether, that ye may be sure of!”

The looks exchanged this time were not quite so triumphant, but still all hope was not lost. It would be another twenty-four hours before they arrived home, and each had great trust in his own and in the other’s ability to charm the great Lord of the Glittering Caves into submission. It might not be an easy task, but it could be done, especially together. Together they made a powerful team and it felt good to be back on the same side. They shared another smile, and Gimli couldn’t quite hide one of his own, though he attempted to by pretending to cough and trying to look stern. Still the seriousness didn’t quite reach his eyes, which remained merry, and he may not have realized that he was beginning to hum as he picked up the fish to prepare for the fire.

Oh yes, there was always hope!


End file.
